


pulling at strings

by d0nquix0te



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Chorus Civil War, F/M, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:05:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0nquix0te/pseuds/d0nquix0te
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vanessa Kimball has been fighting the war for many years, and Locus has been there at every turn. </p>
<p>Vanessa Kimball is not a puppet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pulling at strings

Vanessa usually stays quiet while Felix tells his stories about his old teammate and partner. She sits at the end of the mess hall table and listens as Felix spins tales that leave the rest of her platoon enraptured with both awe and fear. It got old fast, in Vanessa’s opinion, but the others seem to always want more, asking questions that range from “What does he look like under that armor?” to “How many people do you think he’s killed?”

“Have you ever seen someone take on a Sangheili Major in hand to hand combat?” Felix asks her platoon. They silently wait for Felix to continue, some shaking their heads in response. “The battle had dragged on for days and our numbers were dwindling. With so few people left, we couldn’t afford to take rests and the Covenant kept pushing. We were already dead on our feet, exhausted from fighting for two and a half days straight with our comrades falling around us. And to top it all off, guess what happens?”

Vanessa rolls her eyes as she just barely makes out the sound of a mesmerized “What happened?” from somewhere down the table. 

“Ran out of ammo! Of course we ran out of ammo, we were running through our resources like you wouldn’t believe and our backup was still half a day out. So when this Major steps up with dual-wielded plasma rifles, Locus just charges him without second thought.”

He pauses for dramatic effect, leaving them all on the edges of their seats and waiting for the next part of the story. 

“Now, Sangheili are tough, not fleshy like humans. I’ve seen them take fire from all angles and still manage to decimate an entire squad. Locus is smart, though, if he doesn’t already know a target’s weakness, he’ll figure out a way to find it. At this point in the war, we had learned a lot about the species, enough for Locus to straight up tear the bastard apart with his bare hands.”

Someone makes a noise of disgust and Felix chuckles. “Oh yeah, it was gruesome. Even for a war zone battlefield, it was messed up. Sangheili have the eyes and noses of predators, so Locus digs his fingers right into the soft areas of the guy’s face under the crest of his helmet and tears, splattering blood and teeth everywhere. Nothing will make me forget the sound of the Sangheili’s pained shriek. He never fully recovered enough to stand a chance. Locus toyed with him mercilessly, but that’s not even the worst part.”

Vanessa is sure a lot of the story is exaggerated. From most of the things Felix has told them so far, she gets the sense that Locus is a methodical and efficient soldier, not the type to run into battle without a plan or to draw out a fight for his own morbid satisfaction. Her squad mates buy it, though, like they always do.

For the first time, she decides to speak up, loud enough to stop Felix even in the middle of his sentence. 

“You make him sound like a monster,” she says, watching as every head at the table turns in her direction. Felix looks a bit annoyed at the interruption but raises an inquisitive eyebrow at her. “He’s just a man. A soldier like the rest of us.”

“That’s exactly something he would say,” Felix tells them, switching right back into story telling mode as he looks around the table. “Right before disembowelling you. He likes to mess with people’s heads like that, make them underestimate him.”

Frustrated at his dismissal, Vanessa interrupts again. “I’m not underestimating him, but I’m not overestimating him either. There’s no benefit to seeing him as more than he is.”

“Fair enough,” Felix responds with a shrug, now looking amused. “Maybe you’ll get to see for yourself someday.”

Vanessa stops herself from commenting that getting a quick look at Locus from across a battlefield would probably give her more factual information about the man than she’s received from all of Felix’s stories combined. There’s no point in being rude. “Maybe. I’d rather the war just end first,” she says instead to close the topic. 

Conversation starts up again but Felix’s stories are over for the day. Vanessa thinks she notices a couple begrudged looks being shot in her direction, but she doesn’t mind. She supposes she would rather be disliked than stand by and let her teammates become so captured by Felix’s rendition of Locus that they falter if they come across him in battle. Being terrified of the man won’t do them any good. She also doesn’t care about Felix’s opinion of her in the way so many of the others do; being a seasoned and amiable soldier grants him a lot of admiration around the camp but Vanessa doesn’t put him on a pedestal any more than she does Locus. Locus isn’t a demon, and Felix isn’t a saint. 

It turns out she wouldn’t have needed to worry about it even if she cared to. A couple weeks later, Vanessa is called into General Hernandez’s office, where she finds herself promoted to Captain. After giving her new orders and a squad of her own to oversee, the General offers zher hand for Kimball to shake.

Kimball tries not to fumble her words as she replies with a polite, “It’s an honour, ser. Thank you.” 

Felix is in the room for the whole thing, leaning back against the side wall. His helmet is on but he still manages to look smug and Vanessa knows immediately that this is happening at his recommendation. 

He follows her out after she’s been dismissed. 

“Captain Kimball,” he states dramatically as they walk away from the General’s offices. “Pretty impressive.”

Maybe the appropriate thing to do is thank him, or ask why he chose her out of all the others. 

“I’m just a soldier like the rest of you.” 

 

Vanessa has been a Captain for a year by the time she finally does see Locus on the battlefield. Her experience puts her at the front of the battle more often, and so do her statistics. One of the Colonels insists on congratulating her often on how few people she’s lost in comparison to the others, as if it’s a competition, as if their soldiers are just numbers or game pieces. She doesn’t view it as an accomplishment; she views it as doing her damn job as well as she can manage. 

Either way, it’s undebatable that she can get a job done. Her team is assigned to the task of infiltrating an outpost the New Republic lost to the Federal Army early on in the war. Outpost 12 is defended by a missile launching system that also makes it a valuable war asset and if they can disable the controls, the ground forces coming in behind them will be largely uncontested. The mission sounds simple enough, until they start doing recon and discover that Locus happens to be stationed there. 

“Captain Kimball,” Major Kathleen Jensen starts as she hurries up to Vanessa, returned from scouting ahead. “I have news.”

Vanessa nods at her to go ahead.

“They have Locus with them, ma’am. Bit of bad luck for us. He arrived just this morning.”

“That does change things,” Vanessa agrees with a sigh. The timing is unlucky. Sometimes Vanessa feels like there’s a force specifically working against them, pushing them back every time they get ahead. “Gather the Lieutenants and we’ll go over the plan again.”

“Yes, Captain Kimball,” Major Jensen replies before disappearing to carry out her orders.

The problem with mercenaries is that they rarely conform to battle tactics. Felix has always preferred to do things his own way, in the way he deems the best, and he gets away with it because he always pulls it off without a hitch. He jokes sometimes that he doesn’t get paid to play soldier, he gets paid to get the job done one way or another. Until they’re already in the fight, they can only speculate about Locus’ role and then hope they are prepared for whatever happens. 

Vanessa only has a moment to herself to think it over before Major Jensen and the Lieutenants join her, expecting her to have all the answers. The five of them circle around a weapons crate they’re using as a makeshift table and the blueprint of the Outpost 12 facilities on top of it. 

“It’s safest to assume Locus will function the way Felix does,” Vanessa tells them. “Which means he’ll be wherever he thinks his expertise will be most beneficial. In this battle, whoever controls the heavy weapons will come out on top.”

Major Jensen taps a finger down on the blueprint, pointing out where the missile consoles are. 

“That’s right,” Vanessa says. “Kathleen, you and I are likely to encounter him there. The plan stays the same. We just need to be ready for him. We can use the close quarters to our advantage.”

“I’ll prep my team.”

“Dismissed,” Vanessa allows. 

After Major Jensen leaves, Vanessa goes over the other details with the Lieutenants even though it’s a battle strategy they’re more than familiar with. They outline it on the blueprints, discuss fallback plans, and anything else they can think of until Vanessa is satisfied. 

They split up to find their respective teams, and Vanessa gives the go ahead over the comms. There is radio silence as they go into the outpost quietly from four directions, eliminating as many patrols as they can before an alarm is tripped. 

“Things are about to get loud,” a lieutenant warns over the comms, just before a series of gunshots go off across the camp. There is only so far they can go without being seen, but open combat is what they’re trained for and Vanessa has faith in her team. 

“Alright, let’s pick up the pace,” she says to Major Jensen. All around them, battle is breaking out, Feds pouring out to meet them. They quickly wade through it all to get to their primary objective, taking out soldiers in their way. They keep close, watching each other’s backs like they have been doing for months. 

There is little resistance indoors, with most soldiers already out fighting the rest of the New Republic squads. The team pauses outside the main control room, taking a moment to reload their DMR’s before Vanessa leads them inside. Two Feds stand at attention while a third frantically taps at a holographic screen, readying the missiles. As if on cue, the Captain in charge of the ground forces reports in. “Awaiting your signal, Captain Kimball.”

Vanessa fires into the engineer’s back while the others take out the guards. She nods to Major Jensen, who holsters her gun and moves forward to the targeting terminal. 

“Major Jensen is on it,” she responds. “Targeting system will be offline in—”

A figure shimmers into existence right behind Major Jensen, pistol already pressed against a weak point in the back of her armor. 

“Don’t move,” Locus orders before Vanessa even has a chance to raise her gun. His voice is quiet and low but still grabs the attention of the entire team, everyone gone still with trepidation. Vanessa had never seen him coming; she doesn’t know if he was already in the room waiting for them or if he slipped in around them, unseen. Felix has never mentioned his old partner using a cloaking unit, which means Locus must have an arrangement with the Feds that is similar to the one Felix does with the New Republic. 

He directs Major Jensen away from the console, putting her in between himself and the rest of them. “You have two options. Retreat with all your lives, or advance towards your objective at the expense of your tech specialist.”

Even without being able to lock gazes with him, Vanessa feels the full brunt of his focus. He looks directly at her, waiting for her to respond or make a move, while completely ignoring the rest of Major Jensen’s squad as if they are of no concern to him. 

A year as a Captain has not been easy, but this is the first time Vanessa has come face to face with a crossroads where one decision of her own carries the weight of the entire mission. Without the missiles deactivated, they don’t have the numbers or the resources to take this outpost and if they retreat, they’re unlikely to get a second chance. Everything in her screams to attack, to do her job as a soldier and a leader, but this time, it isn’t that simple. 

An explosion sounds off in the distance, making Vanessa wince. The ground forces must have advanced under the assumption that they completed their goal, or simply to provide the rest of the troops with the backup they need. 

“Captain,” Major Jensen says, and after many months of working alongside her, Vanessa knows exactly what she would say if they had the time. Major Jensen doesn’t ask to be saved, she reminds Vanessa that she has her trust one way or the other. 

“Fall back,” Vanessa orders over the comms, voice hard and steady. She will not sacrifice lives for one outpost, because her soldiers are more than statistics. “All teams retreat, the mission is a failure.”

The lieutenants respond with a chorus of “Aye aye, ma’am” and “Understood, Captain Kimball”.

Locus makes a thoughtful noise. “Disappointing,” he says, and then pulls the trigger. 

The gunshot rings in Vanessa’s ears for several seconds after, so long that she barely hears herself yell out in rage and shock as she charges forward. Locus dodges the swing she takes at him and starts to disappear from view once again, shimmering into nothing before her eyes until she’s no longer sure where he is. It’s a struggle to stop herself from firing her weapon blindly. Locus is gone. 

She turns back to her fallen comrade, kneeling down beside her. Blood has seeped through the plates of her armor, leaving crimson trails and blotches over New Republic brown. 

“Captain,” Major Jensen says, voice strained, “Vanessa… my little sister… tell Katie…”

After a tense moment of silence, Vanessa forces, “I will,” past the lump in her throat, even though Major Jensen is already gone. 

Without her, they have no hope of tampering with the missile system. Vanessa unloads an entire clip into the control board instead. 

 

Kimball doesn’t come into contact with Locus again until a few months later. The full force of both armies meet each other head to head in battle on neutral ground with the expectation of an overall bloodbath but the hope of a victory for their own side. Felix had secured an impressive number of vehicles for them only last month and it gives them the first good advantage they’ve had in ages. Kimball had felt exhilarated when the fighting began, feeling like this one last push might tip the whole conflict in their favour. 

A few hours later and she’s starting to grow tired. She slumps behind the cover of sandbags, blocking out the sound of bullets hitting them on the other side. For a moment, she catches her breath and waits for the Feds to stop and reload. 

The next time she rises out of cover, she manages to take out two soldiers before she notices Locus among their ranks. His dark armor sticks out like a sore thumb against the white of the Federal Army, just as much of a beacon as the bright orange in Felix’s. 

“I’m moving up,” Kimball tells the team around her. They have held this position for a while now, and Kimball thinks they’ve put enough of a dent in the forces to warrant her getting closer, where neither army has had a chance to set up any defenses and the fighting is thickest. 

“Ma’am?” one of the soldiers replies as he lowers back down into cover, breath laboured. 

She can hear the uncertainty in his voice, and the hesitancy. Many soldiers have grown nervous around her, afraid to ask questions or offer suggestions. “I’m going after Locus,” she clarifies, hoping full discretion will ease his nerves. “You all have things under control, here.”

“Right, okay, Captain.” He nods at her and takes a deep breath before calling out to the others by their sides. “Let’s give the Captain some covering fire!”

Kimball gives him a pat on the shoulder in thanks, and then quickly gets on her feet. The battlefield stretches ahead through a vast wooded area that hasn’t seen conflict until now. The visibility isn’t great, but the wide trees make good cover in a pinch. Kimball weaves through them until she catches up with Locus. 

For the last few months, Kimball has grieved. She has gone over all her past missions, not just the one at Outpost 12, and reconsidered all her tactics and orders and choices. She has been sad and angry and lost and determined. 

Locus notices her approach, maybe expected it, and meets her halfway. She fires first, finger pressed hard against the trigger until her gun clicks. None meet their mark but they do drive Locus behind a tree and give her a chance to close in. 

“No cloaking this time,” she says, her voice sharp. “No running away.”

While she’s circling the tree and reloading, Locus moves out of cover with an incredible speed, landing a punch directly into her right shoulder. 

“Reckless,” he admonishes while she stumbles back from the force. It’s all she can do to keep on her feet; he’s stronger than she expected. Locus returns fire with his SAW, forcing her to regain her bearings quickly and dodge to the side. 

“I’m doing what needs to be done,” she counters, waiting for the right moment to dart forward again. 

She swings the butt of her rifle towards the side of his helmet but he ducks under her arms, moving around to her side and aiming another hit. Kimball swings around, kicking to knock his legs out from underneath him. 

Locus moves with the fall, rolling back and then onto his feet again. His gun stays on the ground and he comes back forward with fists instead. Kimball watches for the way he pulls back to build up strength, anticipating where he intends to land each punch. She dodges two, but falters on the third that comes right for her face. 

She lands on the dirt with a pained groan, neck already starting to hurt in a way that doesn’t bode well for her concentration. When she sees Locus advancing, she brings her gun up and manages to get a couple shots out before he kicks it out of her hands and into the underbrush. 

With a roll to the side, she narrowly avoids another punch to the visor, but she doesn’t have time to go for her gun before he rounds on her again, leaving her unarmed. The mud slides under her boot as she pushes herself up from the ground and stumbles behind a tree to keep Locus out of range while she catches her breath. She rarely needs to resort to CQC and it never feels the same on the battlefield as it does on the training ground. It’s hard to replicate and account for the adrenaline and intensity. 

She hears twigs snap underfoot and spins out to meet Locus head on, catching his fist in her own. She feels the shock wave all the way up to her shoulder but she grasps tight and twists his arm as far as she can. She grins to herself when she hears him grunt in pain.

Locus wraps his free hand around her throat and shoves her back into a tree, moving forward with her from the hold she still has on his arm. She grabs onto his wrist but his grip only strengthens, immovable, and they remain locked together and strained in each other’s hold. 

“Intentions aside, this is still recklessness,” Locus tells her, voice quiet. A war is raging around them, gunshots and battle cries filling the air, but in that moment she manages to hear only his voice. “A dangerous way to fight.”

“Don’t,” she spits out in reply. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do. You’re angry and bloodthirsty. Is this a revenge mission for you, Captain Kimball?”

Thoughts of Kathleen worm their way into the forefront of Kimball’s mind no matter how hard she tries not to entertain them. She struggles in Locus’ grip, throat starting to burn and breathing becoming shallow. 

Locus pulls her away from the tree and tosses her towards the ground, breaking their contact completely. 

Kimball alternates between coughing and trying to breathe deep again as she regains awareness of their surroundings, gauging whether or not she can get her hands back on her gun. Her own is still out of reach but her eyes fall to Locus’, still on the ground where he dropped it. 

She sprints for it before Locus has a chance to intercept her, sliding down to the ground and firing as soon as the gun is in her hands. “We were falling back.” Her voice cracks in her bruised throat. “But you shot her!”

Locus reappears from behind a tree with his secondary weapon in hand. Kimball rolls away from the spread of shotgun pellets, moving back into cover. 

“That’s war,” Locus replies. “You got our specialist, we got yours. An eye for an eye.”

Kimball feels nauseous, pain and exhaustion mixing together and sapping her dry. She thinks about gunning down the Fed engineer, unarmed and with his back to her. She thinks of Kathleen, blood pouring through the spaces in her armor. She feels like she’s going to be sick. 

She hears an engine roar and then one of the vehicles Felix got for the New Republic screeches along the path in between her and Locus, gun turret firing loudly into the trees. 

“Captain!” the driver calls out to her. Kimball goes to them without second thought, hoisting herself into the empty passenger seat. They take off again immediately, circling around to the rest of the New Republic forces. “We drove them back, ma’am,” the driver tells her proudly. 

Kimball lets out a startled laugh as the words sink in. 

There is no doubt in her mind that Locus escaped the turret fire and will live to meet with her again, but for now she lets relief flood through her body, easing the pain of their fight. 

“Well fought,” she tells the two soldiers, smiling behind her visor, “and thanks for the pickup.”

 

Peace talks no longer take place in the capital, not after the first time. Feeling optimistic about the end of the civil war, both the Federal Army and the New Republic had flooded into Armonia in anticipation of their old lives being restored and ever since the tragedy they received instead, peace talks are scheduled elsewhere, and the soldiers tend not to get their hopes up anymore.

Kimball has been to four meetings now, over the years. The first one had devolved into a battle right in the middle of the capital that resulted in heavy casualties for both sides. General Hernandez had been shot by a sniper at the second one, only a couple months after zhe had promoted Kimball to Captain. The third one had lasted nearly two months only to end in a frustrating stalemate, and the Federal Army General had been found stabbed to death at the fourth. Kimball still doesn't know who was responsible for that and she suspects she never will. 

This time, the chosen location is remote, abandoned since the beginning of the war, and therefore less familiar territory for both sides. Kimball watches from the backseat of a jeep as their company moves closer and the tall buildings grow larger on the horizon. In the passenger seat in front of her sits their current General, a significantly less experienced General than they've had in the past. They look nervous even in a full suit of armor and Kimball resists the urge to give them a pat on the shoulder. Some reassurance might actually make the difference but she doesn't have it in her to pretend they aren't driving right into danger.

Kimball is tired. The war has dragged on for years and all around her the faces have changed. Some grow older, worn down by their way of life, and the rest disappear from the ranks entirely and are replaced by the young and inexperienced. Some of them are so young they were only kids when this started.

"Have you been here before, Kimball?" General Rees asks, turning to look back at her.

"No, ser," she answers. "And it hardly matters. It won't be the way it was before."

"I suppose you're right," the General agrees.

The driver beside them joins in. "I had family there, before. We would visit sometimes. It was a nice, quiet place."

For a moment they all watch the approaching city in silence. Quiet back then and silent now. Kimball has already gone over her past experiences in her head, trying to formulate some kind of security check she can do once they see the facilities. She wants time to look for possible sniper nests, she wants to meet the people who will be at the Federal Army General's side, and she wants to know about any structural weaknesses in the buildings where they plan to meet. She won’t have time to survey to her liking, but she's expressed her concerns to the Captains who report to her and she knows most of them respect her authority and experience enough to do everything they can in her stead while she attends the talks with General Rees.

The rest of the drive is quiet, all the way into the heart of the city and its empty streets. There's no trap, no ambush, nothing to suggest things are not the way everyone agreed upon, but Kimball finds it impossible to relax anyway.

Many of the buildings are in disrepair after the years, a perfect portrayal of the way Kimball feels about the war and their planet on the whole. Resources have run thin, personnel ranks have fallen to the wayside, no one seems to remember what life was like before martial law.

"The Feds are already here," she points out quietly.

General Rees nods, helmet facing a couple of Federal Army scouts watching their progress from an empty store front. Kimball can hear the whir of their bionic eye zooming in on them. "We would have done the same in their position."

As was agreed, the New Republic sets up base on the opposite side of town from the Feds, with the town hall in between them. They've brought enough soldiers to give them a fighting chance if things get ugly and they're prepared to stay stationed in the city for as long as the peace talks go on.

Kimball finds the General speaking with Felix and waits her turn, not bothering to hide the fact that she's eavesdropping. 

"I'm going to keep to the perimeter," Felix is saying. "More likely to spot threats there, and you'll already have Kimball with you. Besides, probably best to keep some space between me and Locus." He chuckles good-naturedly but it sounds forced. Kimball can't really blame him. Felix doesn't talk about Locus the way he used to; he’s either no longer interested in impressing the New Republic with morbid tales or he’s just as battle weary as the rest of them, ready for the conflict to be over. 

"That'll do," General Rees agrees.

They coordinate for another couple of minutes before Felix offers the General a lazy salute and wanders away. Once the General turns to her, she cuts to the chase. "Permission to scout out the meeting hall, ser?"

With a sigh, General Rees nods. "I had a feeling you would want to do so. Permission granted."

They don't need to tell her to be careful or to return in time for negotiations to begin, they already know she will be. They have worked side by side long enough now that they know each other’s habits; Kimball knows Rees prefers to live in the moment because their cybernetics give them an edge with analysing rapidly changing situations and Rees knows that Kimball has grown weary and mistrustful and prefers to do whatever she can to get them an upper hand. “Be back soon,” Kimball promises and takes her leave. 

Town hall has a large open courtyard for public gatherings and the surrounding buildings have full walls of windows that look out over what must have been a lovely view, before. Now the vegetation has overgrown the fountain basins that have long run dry. 

“Captain Kimball.”

Kimball turns and sees none other than Locus walking up to her. His weapon is holstered across his back, seemingly unconcerned about being in close proximity of someone he has been fighting against for years.

“I’m not a Captain anymore,” Kimball replies. She makes a point of holstering her own gun as well. Until things go wrong, she can play along with the illusion of peace. 

Locus joins her in front of the empty and cracked fountain, leaving a couple feet between them. “Congratulations. What rank should I be using to address you?”

His politeness is unnerving compared to some of their encounters in the past, but she supposes it’s understandable. Everyone will be on their best behaviour over the next few days. 

“Just Kimball.”

Locus only nods and they descend into a silence that doesn’t feel as awkward as Kimball might have expected. She steps closer to the fountain and brushes some of the weeds to the side even if it does nothing to change the decrepit look of the thing. 

“This planet was beautiful once.”

“It can be restored,” Locus responds behind her. 

She turns to face him again, wondering not for the first time why an ex-UNSC soldier turned mercenary would care enough about a border colony to join its civil war. She’s heard some of the story behind his and Felix’s rivalry but she can’t imagine getting involved in a long, messy conflict like this over a personal competition. “There may not be enough to restore by then.”

“You don’t believe our armies will reach an agreement over the new few days.”

As much as Kimball hopes for it and would like to believe it’s possible, she doesn’t like setting herself up for disappointment. “I’ve been assigned to most of the treaties over the years, just like you have. You know as well as I do that they never end well, even when there isn’t an assassination.”

“I had pegged you for an idealist. Perhaps wrongly.”

“Realist might be more accurate. And what does that make you? A nihilist?”

“No.” His voice is sharp and Kimball knows she’s struck a nerve. “I follow my orders and complete the missions I’m given.”

Kimball is surprised by his conviction and apparent loyalty to the Federal Army. She’s heard Felix’s stories and she’s seen his brutal prowess in battle and it had led her to imagine him like a loose cannon. She’s beginning to see that he is much more precise than that. She wants to ask him if he really believes in the Federal army mandate, how he thinks an outsider such as himself could even understand it. 

“Why do you really fight, Locus?”

His helmet tilts slightly in her direction, giving her the impression that something about the question intrigues him, but before he can say anything, they’re interrupted. 

“Ah, there you are, Locus. Slipped away when I wasn’t looking! And who is this, have you found a troublemaker already?”

Kimball grinds her teeth in annoyance, stamping down the urge to give the newcomer a scathing reply. 

Locus inexplicably comes to her aid. “General Doyle, this is Kimball of the New Republic. She is an experienced and well-respected fighter and leader.”

Kimball is so shocked that she nearly misses Doyle’s response.

“Oh, well, pleased to make your acquaintance then, Miss Kimball.”

“It’s just Kimball.”

“I had planned to scope out the facilities before you arrived,” Locus says, drawing Doyle’s attention away from her. He sounds vaguely exasperated, underneath his gravely monotone. She can see why; Doyle isn’t striking her as the battle ready kind of General, nor one who can let Locus do his job in peace. 

She takes the opportunity to duck out of the conversation. “Scoping out the place was what I had in mind too,” she says, backing away from them. She looks to Locus, unable to keep some amusement from leaking into her voice. “Enjoy the babysitting.”

Before either can reply, she hurries over to the main building, slipping inside and taking a look around. No one else is there and it doesn’t look like anyone has been inside its walls in years. For the next half hour, she looks for anything that could put someone at a tactical disadvantage. She’s pleased to find that the windows are made with thick bulletproof glass and that most rooms have multiple exits. 

Negotiations are scheduled to begin soon and she should return to accompany General Rees, but Kimball finds herself standing alone in the meeting room, hands braced on the top of the dusty table, thinking about Locus. 

She remembers weeks of nightmares that included Locus killing Kathleen Jensen. She remembers catching sight of Locus during many battles afterwards, an unstoppable force. She’s seen her fellow soldiers go down quickly and suddenly with one shot to the head and known that Locus was hidden somewhere with a sniper rifle. 

But the man she had momentarily spoken with, stood in front of a dry fountain overcome by wild weeds, had been just a man. She doesn’t know when she started to think of Locus the way Felix had described him, probably the moment his pistol fired into Major Jensen’s back, but she remembers now that she had once refused to see him as anything other than another soldier following orders. 

He had arrived early to the center of the city to look for dangers just as she had. His first thought had been the safety of his General, just as hers had been. 

Kimball pushes away from the meeting table. She has just enough time to meet back up with General Rees before negotiations get underway. 

 

The ringing in Kimball’s ears is so loud she can’t hear anything else. Her breath rattles in her throat as she exhales, causing her to cough until her lungs burn. She pushes through the pain in order to speak over the comms. “Is anyone on this frequency?”

All she receives is static. 

Some of the dust and dirt in the air is starting to settle and Kimball can finally see what exactly has fallen across her legs to keep her from moving. The explosion had knocked out the entire wall next to her, and the debris is now all around her in pieces, one of which is trapping her against the metal floor. “Shit,” she curses under her breath. “Are there any other survivors? Report, now,” she tries again, but gets no response. 

Everything had been going so well. Losing General Rees in an airship battle had left the New Republic with lower morale than ever before and when the army had looked to her for direction, Kimball had stepped up and worked hard to keep things together, to keep everyone focused on gaining back some of the ground they had lost. She had thought they were finally clawing their way back to even footing. It turns out the Federal Army had more up their sleeve than she anticipated. 

Kimball’s eyelids start to droop from exhaustion and pain. All she wants to do is rest for a while before she figures out how to get out of this mess and return to fighting the constant uphill battle. She just needs a minute. 

“Kimball.”

The voice isn’t coming from her helmet. It’s nearby, above her, she thinks. 

“Kimball,” the voice says again, louder and insistent. “Vanessa.”

Kimball groans in response, moving her arm to try and push herself up from the ground. The weight on her legs lifts and she hears the metal grating fall noisily to the floor beside her. Finally, her brain catches up through the pain and recognizes the voice.

“Locus?”

It’s just like how the last peace treaty meetings had ended. An explosion, countless injured soldiers, and the ensuing panic. Kimball had been close to Locus when the bombs went off, the two of them in position with their respective Generals. None of them had died in the blast by some miracle, but Kimball vividly remembers instinctively pulling both herself and Locus out of the rubble of the city hall courtyard before they both moved away to assist their own soldiers. 

This time it’s Locus doing the pulling, but she can’t think of why he would do so. This isn’t neutral territory, this is a war zone, and the only way they mean to settle things now is with weapons, not peace talks. She wants to say as much, but when she tries to move, pain shoots through her entire body and leaves her collapsing back to the ground. 

Locus’ hands press into her armor, and both of them know the second he finds the wound that’s causing her so much trouble. She groans through the pain and sees blood on his hand when he pulls away. 

Kimball has never been one to give up, but she’s never been one to ignore the facts, either. Between equal parts pain and numbness, she hadn’t been able to feel the specific source of her injuries. Her body is starting to shut down. “There’s no one to replace me yet,” she says quietly. “There’s no one, I haven’t had time, I can’t do this to them.” The words bubble out of her mouth before she can stop them. 

“The New Republic won’t be losing their leader,” Locus says, voice still oddly insistent. 

He starts removing parts of her chest plate. It hurts like hell when he pushes her over onto her side to work some of the pieces off and unzip her Kevlar but Kimball doesn’t fight it and she isn’t sure she would even if she had the energy. If Locus intended to kill her, all he would have to do is walk away. 

“They’re all so young,” she continues, putting her mind to her soldiers instead of the darkness edging in around her field of vision, “they need guidance, they need…”

She screams as Locus pulls something out of her side. Now that it’s gone, she feels torn open and bare, like everything inside of her is going to spill out from the gaping wound and all that will be left of her is a gory mess on the ruined floor of a military compound. 

Locus has a knife in his hands and Kimball thinks it should worry her, but she closes her eyes and lets herself trust. She passes out just as he’s bringing the blade down towards her. 

The next time she opens her eyes, she sees the rocky canopy that covers the New Republic headquarters. The sight is comforting and for a few minutes she lies still and gazes up at it, the same sight she’s been looking up at for so many years. Her entire body aches and her throat has never been so dry, but she feels remarkably better than the last time she had been conscious. 

“You’re awake!” Medical officer Nash appears in Kimball’s line of sight. “I was worried you were a goner, there. That wound was pretty gross.”

Kimball shares the sentiment but it’s still alarming to hear from someone else. Nash starts taking her vitals and Kimball wordless goes along with it, eyes roaming their surroundings as she does. 

There are so many injured soldiers that they’ve set up stretchers, tables, and any other available flat surfaces in the open air outside the already full med bay. “What happened?” Kimball asks, voice croaking.

“After the explosions, both armies fell back,” Nash tells her as she scans Kimball’s side over the wound site. “We have Felix to thank for so many getting out alive, you included. He was the one who found you. If he hadn’t patched you up right away, well, it’s just good that he did.”

“What?” Kimball blinks at her in confusion.

Nash frowns, grabbing one of her tools and inspecting Kimball’s ear with it. “Maybe we should check your hearing. That explosion could have done some serious damage.”

“No, I can hear fine, as well as I could before anyway,” Kimball says, swatting her away. “It was Felix? Who found me in the compound?”

“That’s right. Now relax, would you? You’re still in rough shape.”

Kimball isn’t sure what to believe. She remembers Locus, and she had been in a lot of pain at the time, but she’s sure she’s remembering correctly. Either way, she keeps it to herself. No one would want to hear about Locus finding her whether it had only been in her head or not. 

Besides, she has more important things to think about than Locus possibly saving her life. She needs to get back on her feet so she can help the New Republic get back on its own. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot!” Nash says. “While you were down for the count, another ship crashed into the jungle canyon. Felix said he would take care of recon while you recover.”

Kimball lets out a long breath while taking the information in. The last thing they need right now is to be fighting two battles from different angles. “If there are survivors, let’s hope they’re friendly and we get there first,” she mutters.

 

Vanessa has spent nearly a third of her life in New Republic armor. She remembers the beginning of the civil war and she knows how fortunate she is to have seen the end of it. Life on Chorus is changing now, not back to the way it used to be but into something it has never been before. She still regularly wears her armor and she’s still _Kimball, leader of the New Republic_ , but when she steps out of her new apartment in Armonia, she decides to leave it behind. 

Being less protected and cut off from communications feels odd, but for the first time in years they aren’t at war and no one will need to urgently contact her. She has a meeting with Doyle tomorrow to prepare for, but for now, her time is her own. 

Armonia’s Detention Facility is mostly full of pirates now, thanks to Tucker and Sarge. With interrogations left to those better suited, Vanessa hasn’t had need to visit the facility before, and she has a feeling the guards on duty will question her showing up now. When she arrives, those from the New Republic remain at ease but she can tell the ones from the Federal Army have misgivings, even if her rank keeps them from saying so. 

“I’m here to speak with Locus,” she tells the officer in charge. In the beat of curious silence that comes after while the officer inspects her, she wishes she had worn her helmet after all. 

“Of course, this way, ma’am,” the officer finally responds, and then leads her through the hallways into a small, bare room with a table and two chairs. “I’ll bring him in.”

Vanessa nods and takes the chair closest to the door. 

It has only been a couple weeks since they brought Charon to justice. For two weeks, the people of Chorus have tried to move forward and remember how to live normal lives again. For two weeks, Vanessa has been reflecting upon her experiences until pressure builds up behind her eyes and blossoms into a headache. She hadn’t let herself dwell on the revelation of Felix’s and Locus’ plot before, not when they had still been a threat. But now that things are settling down, the past several years are coming back to her, painted in a different light. 

The door reopens, admitting the officer and Locus. Without a word, he takes the seat across from her and looks straight at her while the officer cuffs his hands and then leaves. 

It’s the first time they’ve seen each other face to face, no helmets between them. Locus is handsome, all dark tones and sharp angles, but he still looks wrong without the armor he wore like a second skin. Others might say his scars make him look monstrous, but Vanessa thinks they only make him look more human. 

“This is unexpected,” he says. 

“Don’t lie to me, Locus.”

He searches her face in silence, eyes taking in her features just as she had done his. He gives a small nod. “You have questions, understandably.”

Vanessa has asked herself many questions over the past two weeks. She has relived battles and visited ghosts and unraveled things she hadn’t known needed to be unraveled. Her military career had not been as straightforward as she’d thought, but the only answers there are to the questions she has are ones she makes for herself. “Actually, I wanted to tell you something.”

Surprise flickers across Locus’ face, so brief she almost misses it. Even without the helmet, his expressions are infinitesimal and difficult to read. He doesn’t reply, only waits. 

“I worked hard to get where I am,” Vanessa says. She finds it easy, natural, to keep her eyes locked on his. “I believed in the cause and I believed in my people. I fought with them and grew with them and I knew them better than any hired mercenary could. I don’t care how many strings you and Felix pulled, I am not a puppet. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do. I’m not here today because someone willed it. I’m here because I endured.”

Locus’ face doesn’t change. He listens to her patiently and without interruption. He doesn’t scoff or look indignant or argue before she’s even finished saying her piece. He reacts exactly how Vanessa figured he would. She knows what kind of person he is, has created a profile in her head from all the things she has observed about him over the years. When he replies, his response doesn’t shock her. 

“You're right,” he says simply.

Vanessa doesn’t need his reassurance, but she does like hearing him say it anyway. She doesn’t need to feel validated in his eyes, but it does confirm that she’s as right about him as she is about herself. 

“We didn’t have to pull any strings with you,” Locus adds after a moment. “You pulled them all on your own.”

If it were anyone else sitting in front of her, saying those words, Vanessa knows they wouldn’t sit well with her. If it were Felix, she’s sure he would say them in a way that would outright anger her, but when Locus lays the words out for her, they arrange themselves into a compliment. 

“Like a committed solider,” she says. 

“A strong leader,” Locus agrees. 

She thinks of Doyle, with all the knowledge befitting his role but none of the combat proficiency. The two of them couldn’t be more different in approach and temperament, and Vanessa can imagine how a General like Doyle would be malleable to Locus’ persuasion. Locus had been more than just a mercenary to the Federal Army. Felix, on the other hand, had never tried to interfere with the way she ran things with the New Republic. He’d always had the expertise or resources they needed when they needed it most, but somehow it was Locus who made her consider her actions closely.

“You know, I think you were the most consistent factor in all of this for me, over the years,” she says. “I think about our encounters a lot.”

Locus shifts a little in his chair, the most he’s moved since coming into the room. It’s a small thing, but compared to his usual stillness, it’s enough to show that he has as much personal investment in this conversation as Vanessa does. 

“As do I,” he admits. “Opposing you was always a challenge. You’re unpredictable.”

Vanessa grins. “And you were a formidable opponent. I learned a lot from our first meeting. Do you remember?”

“Outpost 12.”

It’s been so long that the memory is a well healed scar. It had been personal at the time but now Vanessa can look back at it objectively and accept it as just one aspect of war she’d needed to come to terms with. “My first loss.”

“The outpost or your Major?”

Vanessa lowers her eyes to the table between them. They fall automatically to Locus’ cuffed hands, calloused and scarred and so motionless where they rest on the metal surface. 

“I had lost some soldiers before Kathleen but… we were close. Did you know your tech specialist personally? The one I shot?”

Locus shakes his head. “He kept to himself, we never spoke. He was difficult to replace, however. The Federal Army never managed to repair the guiding system, so your mission was a success in that respect.”

She’ll never be able to consider it as such, but it’s interesting to consider the different ways a battle can be won or lost. To Locus, they lost a valuable war asset. To Vanessa, she failed the primary objective and lost a partner.

“If all you wanted was to be a soldier, why not stay with the UNSC?”

It’s the one thing she doesn’t think she understands about Locus, the one question she can’t answer for herself. She remembers asking him something similar back at one of the peace talks and now that she knows his involvement in the civil war isn’t just about a longstanding rivalry with an old partner, it makes even less sense. A talented fighter and veteran such as himself wouldn’t have had trouble securing a position even in the post-war army ranks. 

“Control gave us a lucrative offer,” Locus says simply and automatically, like a rehearsed answer. 

While it’s certainly the truth, it isn’t all of it. Oddly, Vanessa finds herself okay with not knowing the whole story just now; partially because she doesn’t want to consider the possibility that Locus simply enjoys the fight, the constant conflict and martial law, but also because she doesn’t mind leaving some mysteries for later.

“Well,” Vanessa starts, sliding her chair back and standing up. “I have some things to attend to. Still lots to coordinate.”

Locus follows her with his eyes as she steps around the corner of the table. “Will I be seeing you again?”

“I’ll be at your trial.”

Locus’ expression doesn’t change, remaining closed off in a way that only betrays him.

“Disappointed?”

“You’re busy. You have no reason to return.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The look of frustration he shoots in her direction is the most animated he’s been through the entire visit. Despite herself, Vanessa grins. “If you want to see me more regularly, that’s up to you.”

Locus considers the statement for a moment while she waits, standing only a couple feet away with one hand balanced on the table between them. She knows what she’s asking of him, and she’s willing to wait for him to respond. 

“I would like to hear about your meetings.” When she raises an eyebrow at him, he quickly adds, “Not for intel. Out of interest in your day to day life.”

Vanessa's grin widens into a smile. “Are you really sure you want to hear me gripe about General Doyle?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Locus answers, shrugging a little. 

“Then I’ll be back,” Vanessa tells him. 

The metal of the handcuffs clack against the table as Locus moves one of his hands towards her, though he stops even before they impede his movements, motionless and looking almost nervous. Vanessa reaches across table and slots her hand in between his, gaining herself a surprised look.

“I will be back,” she repeats, holding his gaze. 

After a moment, Locus nods, some tension rolling out of his shoulders. “I look forward to it.”


End file.
